


Let the Good Times Roll

by Asidian



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Charades, Fluff, Games, Good Dumb Fun, Idiots in Love, M/M, Murder Mystery, Party Games, Spin the Bottle, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asidian/pseuds/Asidian
Summary: Prompto hesitates. He lifts both hands up in front of his eyes and makes them into circles, then peers through them."You're Specs," says Noct.Prompto quirks an eyebrow. He lowers both of his hands and cups one, as though around an invisible drink, and brings it to his lips."Coffee," says Gladio. "Iggy's drinking Ebony."





	Let the Good Times Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my fic for day 6 of Chocobros Week! The prompt was "Party Games (Beer pong, spin the bottle, strip poker, twister, truth or dare, etc.)"
> 
> Please check the end notes for art by the amazingly talented and kind [Kaciart](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/)!

"No one," says Ignis gravely, "will leave this room until we find the murderer."

He casts his gaze to each of the three suspects in turn. 

The first is a young dilettante with dark, slicked-back hair, an elegant cigarette holder, and enough jewelry to sink a small boat. He meets Ignis' gaze, haughty and unconcerned.

The second is a humble tailor, a monster of a man with prominent facial scarring. He fidgets and fusses, as though unnerved by the situation, or perhaps the company.

The third is a dashing young CEO, blond and sweet of face, though the rumors that he rules his business empire with an iron fist precede him.  He sits in his chair as though he owns it.

And he's laughing. Of course he is.

Ignis adjusts his glasses and attempts to look stern. "Do you find the murder of a peer humorous, Mr. Friedmont?"

Prompto shakes his head, frantically. He says, "Not at all, sir. I was merely – merely. Uhh. Taking pleasure in the death of a competitor?"

"Harsh," says Noct. "Guess we know who did it."

"Wait," says Prompto. "No, wait. I mean, uhh. Celebrating the lives of those still remaining? Yeah, that's it."

"Nice recovery," says Gladio. "But too little, too late. You're going behind bars."

"I mean," says Prompto. "I mean, uh. Can I be the tailor?"

And Noct says, "No take backs," only when he says it, he waves the cigarette holder and the veritable multitude of bangles on his wrist set to ringing. 

Prompto stares. He lasts approximately five seconds.

Then he doubles over and laughs until he cries.

"Sorry, Iggy," says Gladio, grinning. "Think the murder mystery's not gonna be quite as mysterious as you hoped."

 

* * *

 

The pond is lovely. It reflects the sky, like some ancient monument to beauty. It houses a small dock, and a multitude of fish, and the ruins of a structure that was built before the first king of Lucis ever walked the land.

Right now, it's overrun with four grown men in only boxers, splashing around like school kids.

"Kweh," says Gladio, arms outstretched in front of him. There's a blindfold around his eyes, bright yellow cloth, but Noct's 90% sure he's cheating.

Still, rules are rules. So Noct calls out, "Chocobo, come here!" and so do Ignis and Prompto. And of _course_ Gladio leaves them both alone and veers straight for him.

"Kweh!" calls out Gladio.

Astrals, he's getting close. Those freakishly long legs are an advantage in this game. 

Noct pushes himself sideways, trying to slip out of range. He says, "Chocobo, come here!" but dammit, he doesn't want to.

Gladio's grinning, now. He's maybe a hand's breadth away. On the other side of the pond, Prompto and Ignis are just watching now.

"Kweh," says Gladio, and takes a swipe with his hand. 

Noct yelps – twists backward – goes down in a cascade of water. But Gladio still didn't touch him, so he fumbles along the silt at the bottom of the pond for a stone.

He comes up sputtering – throws the rock up toward the top of the ruins and warps after it, the world shimmering and blurring around him as he rushes after his makeshift weapon. He's barely settled in his new perch when Gladio yanks the blindfold off.

"What," he says, "so we're cheating now?"

"Says the guy who's been peeking since it ended up his turn."

"Come on down," says Gladio. "I can think of a few ways to punish cheaters."

"Iggy," Noct calls. "C'mon, back me up. We never said no magic."

Ignis and Prompto are wading over now to take in the situation. Ignis is amused and composed; Prompto is outright grinning.

"Dude," he says. "You shoulda seen your face, big guy. I thought you were gonna yank those pillars down and make those ruins even more ruined."

"He's technically correct," says Ignis. "We never established a no magic rule."

"Ha!" calls Noct, from safely atop his perch.

"Sucks to be you," says Prompto, with an easy grin.

"From where I'm standing," says Gladio, and closes his eyes. "It sucks to be _you_."

Noct sees what he's going to do an instant before he does it; Prompto goes down, sputtering and flailing, and Ignis beats a hasty retreat across the pond.

As for Noct – he stays right where he is. After all, he's got a front row seat to watch Prom's turn as chocobo.

 

* * *

 

Prompto hesitates.

He lifts both hands up in front of his eyes and makes them into circles, then peers through them.

"You're Specs," says Noct.

Prompto quirks an eyebrow.

He lowers both of his hands and cups one, as though around an invisible drink, and brings it to his lips.

"Coffee," says Gladio. "Iggy's drinking Ebony."

Prompto gives them both kind of a flat look. He brings his other hand into it, and smooths the invisible beverage holder up into a pointed tip. Then he lifts it to his lips again.

"Uh," says Noct. "Did this just turn X-rated?"

"It's wine," says Ignis, levelly. "You've all driven me to drink."

Prompto makes a noise for the first time, then – a snicker that he can't quite muffle behind one hand. He shakes his head, and then he tries again.

He slumps as though seated – lifts one arm like it's draped over the back of a chair.

"Damn, Iggy," says Gladio. "How much wine did you _have_?"

"Five seconds," says Noct.

Prompto lifts the holding-a-beverage hand again and puts it to his lips, pointedly, still seated on the invisible chair.

"Time," says Ignis.

"Aw, man," says Prompto, straightening up. "You guys _suck_. I was Kenny Crow."

 

* * *

 

"Why are we doing this again?" says Noct, as he sets the bottle down sideways in the center of the hotel room table.

"Cause someone," says Gladio, "forgot to pack up the playing cards last time we camped."

"We could play King's Knight," says Prompto, tone hopeful.

Ignis adjusts his glasses. "We can scarcely afford to go over our data allotment again."

"Charades?" says Noct. "I mean, it's kinda fun watching Prompto fail that hard."

"Hey," says Prompto, and pokes him in the side.

"But seriously," says Noct, and jerks his thumb toward the bottle. "You guys realize that the point of spin the bottle is that you're all like fourteen and have never kissed someone before, right?"

"Sure," says Prompto. "But so what?"

"So we're not fourteen," says Noct. "And we kiss each other all the time."

"Consider it an opportunity to put a little variety into the act," says Ignis.

"Right," says Gladio. "New combos. New sights to see."

Noct lifts an eyebrow. He sits back in the hotel room chair, and rests his arms on the arm rests. "Okay," he says. "Shoot. Someone else go for it."

There's a beat of silence, when none of them move. Then Gladio reaches for the bottle. "Okay, fine," he says. "I'll get things rolling."

He sets the thing to spinning with the practiced flip of a wrist. The glass curve of it spins round and round; the label for Jetty's Soda is upside down, then rightside up, so fast it fades into a blur. At long last it wobbles to a stop, the open mouth pointing toward Prompto.

Gladio tips his head – smirks and beckons. "You heard the thing," says Gladio. "Get over here."

Prompto gets over there. He stands by Gladio's spot, perched on the corner of the bed, and for an instant he looks like he's not sure what to do with himself.

Then Gladio reaches up, snakes a hand around his waist, and drags Prompto straight onto his lap.

"Thought this was supposed to be just kissing," says Prompto, with a crooked kind of grin, but then Gladio's mouth is on his, and he gives a little squeak and shuts up.

It's not the kind of kiss that a fourteen-year-old who's never been kissed would give. It's long and deep. There's tongue involved.

By the end of it, when they pull apart, Prompto's eyes are a bit glassy, and his cheeks are flushed red, and Gladio looks incredibly satisfied with himself.

Noct's leaning forward in his chair, now, elbows on his knees. There's a decidedly heated flicker of interest in his gaze.

"Convinced?" says Ignis.

"Okay, fine," says Noct, as he reaches for the bottle. "Say I told you so."

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaahhhh, look at this! Kaciart drew the boys playing [spin the bottle](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/166685461858). 8D
> 
> Please excuse me while I roll around on the floor in absolute delight for a billion years. 8DDDD


End file.
